Spatter
by markovgirl
Summary: Veronica has her suspicions. J.D. has his morals. Both have their vices.


She hadn't meant for it to get this far. Heather Chandler was dead, choked to death on her own bile with poison coursing through her veins. The image of her former 'best-friend', blue tongue protruding from her mouth, surrounded by pieces of shattered glass that dug into her doll-like skin was burned into her mind. And now, her boyfriend had another trick up his sleeve, something to teach those idiot jocks a lesson.

A small voice told her that these so called nonfatal 'Ich lüge' bullets were a lie. They felt like dead metal weights in her hand, as she held them out so he could place them into the chamber of the first handgun. Her eyes stared blankly at the silver in her palm. Her thoughts turned to a page in her History textbook: a victim of war, being executed point blank by a soldier with a stern glare, dressed in a dark trench coat. Her eyes slid to the armchair in the corner of the room, upon which was folded a trench so similar that the soldier in the textbook began to change, dark hair sprouted from under the helmet, a smirk spread across his-

"Veronica? Ya' listening to me?"

A voice brought her from her miserable thoughts, causing her to jump and her gaze snapped to the boy who sat next to her on the bed. And there, shadowed by the beside lamp, was the smirk, the floppy dark hair. A hand reached up to cup her cheek and she jerked at the contact.

"Daydreaming again, my sweet?"

J.D. smirked and retracted his hand from her cheek. He moved down to retrieve the rest of the bullets from her palm, gently swiping his thumb across her wrist on the way. Veronica blinked once, twice, then forced a smile to her face.

"Yeah, sorry," she replied, sighing gently and leaning back into the pillows behind her. "Just daydreaming."

"You need to learn to focus more on the task at hand," J.D. chided, placing the remaining bullets into the chamber of the gun and clicking everything back into place. Her eyes lingered on the weapon, long enough for J.D. to notice, it seemed, as rose from the bed and he tucked the pair of silver handguns away in his bedside cabinet, out of sight.

"I do focu-"

"Still," he continued, throwing himself back down on the bed beside her. They both leaned back against the headboard, legs identically crossed at the ankle. His head lolled to the side to gaze at her, blue eyes boring into her own. "What were you daydreaming about?"

Veronica scoffed as he winked at her. "Certainly not that, J.D."

"Oh, I see, well…" he trailed off, rolling over, so that he straddled her thighs. He leaned forward and pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to her lips. As he drew back slightly she caught the hungry look in his sharp eyes, it caused a shiver to run down her spine, it pooled heat in between her legs. She felt sick, finding J.D. attractive; the mad, manic, manipulative murderer. "Well, what were you dreaming, my sweet, if not about my cock inside of you?"

Veronica blushed furiously. He spoke to her like this every time they had sex. It tainted any semblance of love, made the act pure fucking, raw, animalistic. By nature, J.D. was not a gentle boy, his intimacy was rough, painful, though he never failed to make stars burst behind her eyelids and her body spasm with pleasure.

It was always the intensity that made her come hard. He was stare at her, eyes wide, finding the places that caused cries, others that caused screams - he mapped her body, remembering each tender spot and utilising it to ruin her.

Bang bang.

The sound of shots rang through her mind, she could feel the weight of invisible bullets still pressing into her palm. Her unease could not be ignored, not if it meant the deaths of more friends. Veronica hitched her breath, turning her head so that she would not have to meet his piercing gaze.

"Are those real bullets?" she asked, voice shaking slightly with nerves. No, she could be strong, she had to be! J.D. stiffened above her at her words for a brief moment, smirk dropping to a stern frown.

"You don't trust me?" he replied, tone blank compared to his usually over-the-top exaggeration.

"That's not an answer."

A low growl resonated in his chest. "I'm not a liar, Veronica."

"I didn't mean that, I-"

J.D. crawled down her legs and pushed him off the end of the bed, coming to a standing position, glaring dangerously at her.

"Trust me, Veronica."

Still, her mind begged to differ and she requested to see the bullets again. J.D. merely flushed a deep shade a red, tired of her opposition to his cause, his vision. Why couldn't she see this was for the best?! These kids deserved to every agonising minute of their deaths! He turned in a full circle, running his hands through his hair. When he faced her fully, a feeling of cold dread swept over her, as his expression was one of pure rage. But still he smirked.

"I'm all you have," he said, smile widening to reveal teeth. Veronica stiffened. He was right, she had killed her best friend, driven Betty Finn away and no-one else cared, not her parents, not the school, no-one else gave a damn. She didn't believe J.D. cared truly for her either, not in the normal way one might care for a lover. He was controlling and manipulative, that much she realised, but in a world of Heathers, he was the only person who stood out of the crowd, who stood up for her. Such a mess was her life.

But she wouldn't let him walk all over her.

"I have myself, J.D. And I think it's time I go home."

"I told your parents you'd be staying here tonight. They decided to stay at a friends, in another town. You'd be home alone."

Veronica frowned - when had he done that? The veiled threat behind _'__you__'__d be home alone__' _resonated in the back of her mind. "Fine, fine, I'll stay. Just let me see those bullets, I ne-"

"No, you don't! Just trust me!" he screamed, clenching his fists by his side.

She gasped at his sudden outburst, shifting back further into the headboard. "Okay! Okay, I trust you, jeez."

The room fell into eerie silence as the boy stared at her, still grinning maniacally. He was Dionysus, smiling happily as Pentheus was torn apart. He was terrible, miserable, yet her skin still tingled inappropriately at the sound of his voice.

"Come here," he ordered, holding his hand out for her to take. Hesitantly, she leaned forward and he laced his fingers through hers, pulling her forward so she stumbled off the bed and into his chest.

"Watch it!" she snapped, wrenching her hand from his. The boy frowned and reached up to cup her chin with his hand, long fingers splaying out over the lower half of her face.

"Always this attitude, my Veronica," he tutted, smirk pulling at his lips again.

"Get off! I'm not 'your Veronica'. I'm no-one's Veronica!" she cried, scowling. He did not release his grip on her head, despite her struggles. "Let go, you psycho!"

J.D. growled, the sound echoing deep in his chest, then he pressed her lips against hers roughly, taking her by surprise. She shouldn't have been, he did this often. The anger in the air between them would turn to lust, as if he wanted to prove to her that he could easily cool her rage, control her, with a simple kiss. Usually she conceded, intoxicated by him, but not tonight - no, not tonight!

Instead she shoved her hands against his chest and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. J.D.'s jaw clenched as he watched her childish movement, lip curling in anger.

"You say psycho, I say prophet," he replied, stepping closer to her. He did not stop advancing until her legs hit the edge of his desk. A number of metal boxes and papers crashed to the floor, and mistakenly, she turned her head to look at them. He took advantage of this brief moment and span her around, gathering her tiny wrists behind her back and forcing them into one hand.

Veronica struggled against his grip, opening her mouth to shout, when his another hand snaked around to cover her lips. His fingertips were unexpectedly warm, a contrast to the alabaster skin and cold personality of his exterior. As she let out a muffled cry, J.D. pushed her hard, bending her over his desk, crushing her breasts against the cold wood.

"Shh, shh," he cooed, thumb stroking one of her wrists. "There is no need to get feisty, I just want to _talk_."

Veronica let out another angry, muffled screech, opened her lips and bit down on those elegant fingers - hard. J.D. growled angrily, removing his hand from her mouth and gripping her hair tightly in his fist. He pulled her backwards, bending her neck to look at him in the dim light.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," he hissed, words cutting the air like daggers. "You're not in the best position to fight back, Veronica, so I would call it quits and apologise."

"Apologise? For what?!"

"For not trusting me!" J.D. ground his hips into her backside and smirked to himself. He loved doing this - it wasn't a sexual perversion of any kind, it was the pain, the humiliation, the helplessness that got him off. Tonight, she had pushed him too far, he felt aggravated by mistrust - so what if they were real bullets?! She shouldn't just question him and she shouldn't care what happens to those idiots, they deserve everything they get! Veronica was his. She needed to be reminded that he was right.

"J.D. stop, let go of me," the girl said, voice saturated with worry.

"You know what, my dear - stop fucking struggling, calm down and I'll let you go," he retorted. He pulled the wrists behind her back upward, bending them so far that she cried out in pain.

"Fuck - ow! J.D. stop!" she screeched, wriggling harder against him. Her backside rubbed against him in her struggle, and the boy let out an excited groan.

"Why are you fighting me?" he hissed.

"What?" she replied, weakly. He chuckled darkly, leaning forward so his chest covered her back and his lips were positioned behind her ear.

"Why is it you're fighting against me - the only one who has ever stuck up for you? I helped you get rid of Heather - just like you wanted! I'm protecting you from those assholes who lied and said they double-teamed your pretty mouth!"

"You're the liar. You're going to kill them, aren't you?"

His grip tightened on her arms. "So what if we are?"

"We? No, no, I'm not doin-" She was cut off when she felt his hand creeping under her skirt. "Stop, J.D."

"You should be elated. I'm doing what you always wrote about in your diary. I am setting you free."

He wrenched her upwards and span her around, so she faced him once more. His fingers worked quickly over her shirt until it hung loosely from her body. He smoothed the garment over her shoulders and let it flutter to the floor behind her and her breath caught in her throat as his hands trailed up her bare sides.

"J.D., I-"

With that, he leaned forward and crashed his lips against hers, one hand snaking up to fist the hair at the nape of her neck. Veronica let out a cry as he twisted her dark curls harshly between his fingers. He pulled back after a moment, leaving her breathless and shocked.

"I want you Veronica, none of them care! I want you, you alone. Won't you be mine, won't you trust me?"

He glared at her, fingers still painfully curled into her hair. Her mind told her to curse him and run, but somehow the unbearable desire that had been building in her finally overcame her rationale and guided her actions. Slowly, and against her better judgement, she nodded. _I__'__m no-one__'__s. I__'__m only saying this to dowse this fire. Tonight, just to sate yourself, but never again. Never again. _A fierce smirk spread across J.D.'s face.

"Good girl. And that means; you will _not_ question me, you will _not _doubt," he hissed, unlatching her bra and letting it fall to the floor. Veronica barely registered what he was saying, rather more focused on the maddening sensations his fingers were creating on her skin. "And you will trust me, won't you?"

He traced the sensitive underside of her breast, making her jump slightly. A dark chuckle left him, taunting her, as he swirled his finger up to circle around her now-hardened nipple. When she didn't reply, he pinched down on the rosy bud. Hard.

"Answer me when I speak to you," he said, ignoring the strained cry that she was emitting. She twisted, trying to get away from the pain he was causing. She placed her hands against his chest and pushed slightly, but ceased when he twisted her hair again. "Answer. Tell me what you want, Veronica. Tell me you want me too."

"Oh God!" she gasped, still pressing against his chest.

J.D. growled deeply, removing the hand from her breast to catch both her wrists between his fingers. He was so close to her now, she could feel his lips moving against her cheek.

"Tell me," he whispered. The hand in her hair disappeared and wandered down her stomach. She let out a strangled moan when she felt his fingers dip under her waistband and over her sex. He smirked and chuckled against her cheek. Veronica shut her eyes, mortified to realise that she was already so aroused, and resisted moaning louder as his fingers trailed over her outer lips. "So wet for me already, my dear?"

The boy released her wrists and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. Her hands settled on his chest again, no longer pushing him away, but clutching at his shirt as if holding on for dear life. One of his fingers moved upwards and began gently circling her clit, leaving her unable to contain her moans any longer. Her knees buckled slightly as the waves of pleasure began to get stronger, so J.D. held her tighter against his chest. A fine sheen of sweat broke out on her body and her hips began to grind as she neared her peak.

"Oh f-fuck," she cried, clutching his shirt in her fists tighter than before. His fingers worked her clit faster and she whimpered, pressing her body flush against his, feeling his erection against her stomach. The feeling of his clothes against her bare chest was strange, he seemed so composed and in control, whilst she was coming undone by minimal movements.

"You're positively dripping," he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. As she felt her climax nearing, his hand slowed considerably, and she let out a pained cry. "Ask me to come."

"What?" she groaned, unable to think straight. He slid two fingers inside of her, holding them there, never moving.

"Beg me to come. Just give in to me, Veronica. Be mine," he hissed.

Brain overridden, she couldn't hold back any longer. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Please just - J.D., come on."

"Do you belong to me?"

"Ahh! Come on, please!" she whined, pulling on his shirt to bring his face closer to hers.

"Do you-"

"Yes! Just - please!"

J.D. raised his eyebrow, but smiled widely. "My good, good girl."

With that, he crooked his fingers and began pumping them roughly in and out of her until she screamed out in climax. His name may have rolled off her tongue in the heat of the moment, but she couldn't be sure. One of his arms circled her waist to prevent her from falling to the floor during the intense orgasm that washed over her.

After her high had dissipated, she opened her eyes and saw his satisfied smile. He stroked back her unruly, damp curls with one hand and removed his fingers gently from inside her sex. Her arousal began growing again when J.D. placed his soaked fingers into his mouth and licked them clean. His eyes twinkled darkly with lust, and he removed his fingers out of his mouth with a pop.

"You are delicious, my Veronica," he chuckled. He smirked again, uttering promises of dark, fascinating desires in her ear. She relented, leaving her rationality as dead as Heather Chandler.

"Turn around and put your hands on the desk."

J.D. watched her as she followed his orders, excitement on her face, clearly thinking he was going to simply fuck her. Her submission was excellent - though he knew she would be less pleased with his intentions. She placed her shaky hands down on the wooden desk, bending down to present herself to him. "Pull up your skirt."

Veronica looked round at him, confused. "Pull up my skirt?" she said, shocked.

J.D. nodded. "Or off, whatever's easiest for you."

She immediately straightened up and crossed her arms. "What's easiest for me?"

J.D. laughed lightly. "Indeed. Then put your hands back on the desk and don't move."

Despite her confusion, she stepped out of her skirt, then placed her hands back into the position he had ordered and waited for him to make the next move.

"Good girl. See, that wasn't too hard!" he said, happily, moving behind her. God, yes, he would enjoy this. Her legs were slender, beautiful, though her backside was too covered for his liking. But still, here she was finally complying with him. He barely blinked, not wanting to miss a second of this experience, knowing full well that it may never happen again.

"Don't move your hands, babe."

She heard him unbuckle his belt behind her and her insides squirmed. However, that was all she heard. Veronica frowned and turned her head, to see him standing behind her, still fully clothed. "What are you doing?"

"Now understand, I don't want to do this, Veronica, but I want you to understand that your mistrust hurts me. You need to learn not to do it again."

From her position she couldn't see the way he tenderly wrapped the end of the leather around his hand, or the way his eyes gleamed as he positioned himself behind her, or the way he raised his arm high above his head. She only felt the harsh whack of the belt across her backside when he brought it down. A thick red stripe immediately formed on her skin and she let out a cry at the impact. J.D. smirked at the sound, moving his arm back again. The mark it left was beautiful, so violently red as it peaked out from underneath her underwear. He couldn't help moving his fingers across it lightly, noticing how it was hotter and slightly raised to the touch. Veronica flinched at his contact with her sore skin, turning her head to look at him as he backed into his previous position.

She didn't move, what could she do at this point? He would block the exit, like he had before. Part of her wanted to run, to fight and scream, but another part, a darker, more inappropriate voice in her head urged her to stay.

"Count," he ordered.

"One."

"Louder," he demanded, lashing the belt down again.

"Two!" she said, through gritted teeth. "Three," she said, trying to keep her voice level, though her hands clenched the desk edge so tightly her knuckles turned white.

J.D. frowned at her as he laid the fourth stripe down, directly across a previous mark. She jumped slightly, but made no noise. Why wasn't she crying? All the previous girls had been crying by now, they'd been begging. That's what he wanted from her in a way - he wanted to hear her say his name in hope to relinquish the pain he was administering. Perhaps it was his belt?

After the sixth stroke and still only receiving that irritating cool voice, J.D. lowered the belt in frustration and dropped it into the floor. Veronica's head looked round at the clinking sound and sighed in relief. She'd made it through without cracking. Thank God it was over, the pain was getting to be almost unbearable. She straightened her body upright and placed her hands gently on her burning backside, before feeling a hand clasp around her wrists. J.D. stood behind her, dragging her back towards the chair.

"What are you doing?" she exclaimed, trying to pull her hands out of his grasp.

"We're not done yet, Veronica," he hissed, sitting down on the chair and pulling her over his lap. She began kicking and wriggling on top of his legs, failing to escape his tight grip. "Stop moving or it will just go on and on and on."

With that, he raised his hand and brought it down hard on her right cheek, then the left, then the right... The pain flared up unbearably whenever he hit a welt made by the belt. Worst of all, in her struggle, she caught sight of a full length mirror positioned by the door. The reflection that stared back was horrid, she could see the utter excitement on J.D.'s face, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, cheeks flushed - utterly, ruthlessly beautiful. He paused his actions and flexed his fingers for a moment, before bringing them back to her rear. She tensed in preparation for the oncoming pain, but it never came. Instead his fingers delicately traced the lines of her welts and palmed over sore spots, cooling them with his touch. She shuddered slightly, not quite knowing how to register this new feeling. It felt...fantastic. There was still pain, fingers leaving burning lines, but also a crackling tenderness, an arousing feeling left in the wake of hurt. Staring into that mirror, she watched his face, saw his fascination and the smirk that never left his lips. And she couldn't help but shudder again.

"One might think you're enjoying your punishment, Veronica," he said, voice low, hushed.

"W-what makes you say that?" she replied, teeth still gritted in an attempt of self control. She feared her cries would not be of pain if she let them leave her mouth. His fingers moved down to trace the lines left on her upper thighs, lingering on the tender inner area. The girl in his lap flinched consistently as pleasurable sparks were sent flying around her body.

"Nothing, I suppose. It was just a guess," he said, voice far louder and more jovial. His hand immediately went back to spanking her - and for the first time she let out a cry of pain. He grinned, turning his head to see their reflection in the mirror. Her dark eyes were squeezed tightly shut, her mouth open, so he could see her teeth clenched together.

"J.D.," she stammered, as his fingers stroked over her sore thigh.

"Yes, my love?" he replied, pressing down gently on a particularly purple welt and getting a hiss in reply.

"Ah- I was wondering, how much longer is left? How much more-," She found she could barely string words together at the moment. His touch felt amazing, she wanted him to continue, to go further, do more - but a cross voice in her mind shouted her down. _He__'__s __a murderer__. _She questioned the voice as to why that damned him. _He__'__s punishing you. _She replied that she had wronged him. _He__ killed Heather, he__'__s going to kill more. He__'__s taking you down with him__. _She was going mad.

"When you've learnt your lesson, of course," he replied. His fingers trailed slowly up her thigh and settled in between her legs. "Do you think you've learnt anything?"

Veronica let out a gasp as a single finger stroked down the middle of her underwear, startling her from her inner conversation. He let out a dark chuckle and rubbed a certain spot a little harder. "I told you that you were enjoying this."

"I-I-"

His finger slipped under the fabric of her knickers and gently moved down her lips to touch her clitoris. "I told you. You're wet for me, all over again."

Veronica let out a low moan as he began circling her clit very slowly. Far too slowly. She writhed against his legs, trying to press backwards into his hand. No voice was screaming at her to stop anymore, she could only think about how marvelous that single finger was making her feel. But he went no faster, only keeping that same, slow rhythm. Her eyes looked to the mirror, observing the wanton scene, fascinated. J.D.'s lips were still set in a smirk. She moaned again as the feeling inside her began to build.

"Why are you wet?" he asked, softly. _Tell me who made you wet. Tell me you__'__re mine. __Tell me you enjoy the pain._

"I don't know," she gasped, wordlessly begging him to speed up, to press harder, to move inside her - anything. She moaned blearily, not able to form proper sentences, or even words anymore. J.D. toyed with her clit, working her to the limit, letting her near the edge with rapid strokes before slowing his hands and leaving her hanging. His repeated his denial five times before she was even more of a quivering mess, her wetness dripping to the floor. He mulled over the idea of fucking her, but decided against it at that precise moment - there would be more than enough time for that. For now he began circling her clit faster and faster, alternating rough pinches with gentle caresses until he saw she was nearing the edge again.

"P-please," He was surprised to hear her speak. "Let me come, can I come?"

J.D. raised an eyebrow and smiled darkly. He fingers almost slowed, until she begged, "Please, oh God, please?"

"How can I refuse such a polite young lady?" he taunted, and pinched her clit one last time. Hard. With that she was sent over the edge and J.D. let his fingers enter her, wanting to feel her insides tighten around him. She finally collapsed against his legs, hands brushing the floor below her. J.D's fingers were still inside her but she was too tired and sore to think about humility or decency just yet. When the morning came, she knew she would begin to hate - hate herself for allowing this to happen, him for...everything, anything she could pin on him.

For now, it seemed he wouldn't let her rest or give her the time to think on anything but him. J.D. pulled her up, and tossed her aching body down onto his bed. Crawling over her, he caught her mouth in a foul kiss, roughly biting her lips until he could taste her blood on his tongue. His hands encircled her waist and he sat back, make her straddle his lap. Veronica let out a cry when his hands gripped her raw backside tightly, and she fell forward, head resting on his shoulder.

"Do you trust me, my darling?" he whispered, rasping voice low, but no longer dangerous.

Veronica nodded, still squirming away from him. "Yes, J.D., yes."

"Good girl."

"Stop saying that, I'm not a baby," she chided, forcing his hands away from her sore skin and holding them next to his sides.

He quirked a brow, but his soft expression didn't turn to anger, much to her relief. His hands moved to unbutton his jeans, as Veronica pushed his shirt over his shoulders and tossed it to the floor beside them.

"I know. But I also know that saying it makes you shiver," he replied, pressing his lips to her neck. She moaned, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, loving the feeling of bare skin on skin. He rid himself of his trousers and underwear and positioned her on top of him. "Ride me."

They fucked.

He growled when he came, and her name splattered across the ceiling like blood.


End file.
